WARNING: The following story is fetish smut, made for perverts who enjoy natural body magic/detachment/disassembling people non-lethally. If you are not a member of that community, I strongly advise that you turn back now. Things will get freaky.
This story is a sequel to The Garage Guillotine, and while it is not necessary to read the previous story to understand this one, it will probably make the rules of magical detachment make more sense as that is the story that lays out how it works.
-
“This is the worst idea you’ve ever had.” Kelly said, tapping the back of her head against her boyfriend’s as he clawed his way up the hill.
“This… was your idea!” Carlos grunted, dragging them onto a large, flat stone jutting from the hill, wide enough for him to drop his baggage and rest.
“Yes, and I thought you’d be smart enough to say no! Now look where we are!” Kelly said, her perspective spinning as Carlos fell to his knees, unburdened himself, and propped his girlfriend against the hill. Looking out over the wooded valley, Kelly was impressed by how much distance they’d covered, Carlos’ ivory car nothing but a speck between series' of swaying branches. “Damn, nice view.”
“Mph.” Carlos concurred, taking a measured swig from his canteen.
“Can I get a sip?” Kelly asked, opening her mouth and tilting her head back.
“Water is for mountaineers, not cargo.” Carlos answered, screwing the cap tightly and wiping his lip.
“I'm mountaineering! I’ve been guarding your ass from bears this whole time! The utter lack of bear maulings is totally sip-worthy.” Kelly complained.
Carlos sighed, then nodded. “Yeah, I suppose. Here.”
He set the canteen down in arm’s reach of Kelly. Arm’s reach, had Kelly any arms. Or any limbs at all. Her appendages were currently in a duffel bag in the back of Carlos’ car, bundled in clothes Kelly would’ve been carrying had she not convinced him to remove her limbs and carry her torso for their entire five day camping trip in a backpack he’d had to mostly empty. She’d argued it would be the “ultimate wilderness survival experience”, and as a man obsessed with trying every experience under the sun, he let himself get talked into it. Kelly was playing him, of course; she didn’t care about wilderness survival, she just got off on self endangerment and could imagine few things more dangerous (and by extension sexy) than being a helpless torso in the middle of nowhere totally reliant on her boyfriend.
Sexy, and annoying. Pouting, head sinking into the backpack as she stared longingly at the canteen, Kelly asked “Has anyone ever told you you’re a gaping asshole?”
“Only you.” He replied, peeling his t-shirt from his chest and flapping it to cool off. “Wait, am I in an abusive relationship?”
“You dismembered your girlfriend and are refusing her water. You tell me.” Kelly retorted, shrugging her armless shoulders.
Carlos closed his eyes, the midday sun soothing his aching muscles as he thought, then peeked at his temporarily quadruple amputated girlfriend, the backpack sagging with a sigh and her cutely scarred and pierced face fixed longingly on the canteen. He stood with a groan, pushing off Kelly’s shoulder to her mild annoyance. He took a step forward, his sweaty back to Kelly as he admired the view. “I’m willing to trade.”
“Trade? For a sip of water?” Kelly asked.
“Yup.” He said. While he’d wanted it to be a surprise, the unmistakable click of a buckle spoiled the reveal. When he turned back, Kelly saw he’d indeed undone his belt and allowed his half hard cock and recently shaved balls to flop out over his cargo pants, the waistline a little higher than Kelly’s reduced eye level and the shadow of his shaft casting over her chin in literal foreshadowing. “Sip for suck?”
“You’ve left civilization for a day and already you’re taking advantage of disabled women?” Kelly said, smiling. “Well, if I must. Bring that spicy choritso over here!”
“Chorizo.” Carlos corrected. “And while chorizo comes in links, it’s traditionally served ground, not-”
"Not important." Kelly interrupted, not sure if Carlos was knowingly being a dick right now or just was one. He was definitely being a dick when his dick missed her mouth and slid across her cheek, leaving her nose shoved into his groin. Reaching out with her pierced tongue, Kelly laughed as she licked an errant nut. “Dude, you're so sweaty!”
“Is that a deal breaker?” Carlos asked, pulling back a little.
“You kidding? I’m thirsty as fuck!” Kelly replied, opening her mouth wide and jutting her tongue out invitingly. Suffice it to say, she earned her sip.
-
"Can you cook that any slower?" Kelly asked, scowling at the little fish Carlos was handing harder than he'd handled her today.
“I can leave the pin bones in, if you don't mind shitting blood.” Carlos said, pulling out the tiny bones one by one with the tweezers from their first aid kit. He’d sanitize that later; right now, he and Kelly were starving. He’d overestimated his fishing skills, and by the time he’d caught four scrawny fish, the sun was sinking below the horizon. Gathering firewood and finding a suitable campsite used the last of the sunlight, and now he and his partner were hangry as hell.
Kelly’s lips were clamped in a tight frown, while her stomach gave a muffled roar. Carlos responded by pulling out a few more bones before simply impaling the mostly cleared fish on a stick and propping it over the fire, starting on the next fish in line. He was no stranger to being the couple’s cook; Kelly had the culinary skills of someone who’d survived college off uncooked hotdogs and microwave noodles, while he was always aching to try new recipes. But normally it was only courtesy that stopped Kelly from spoiling her appetite with snacks or hotdogs straight from the bag. Without her arms, she really was at the mercy of her partner for her next meal. It made the hunger more, for lack of a better term, real.
A gentle breeze brought a teasing aroma to Kelly’s nose, leaving her shuddering in her backpack. She’d never smelled anything more delicious than the scrawny, unseasoned, unevenly cooking fish Carlos had caught with his own two hands and an $80 fishing kit. Mouth and eyes watered together as she stared into the brilliant fire. Her fingers twitched in the car, reaching for nothing as her detached thighs flexed and shook anxiously.
Setting the second de-boned fish by the fire, Carlos pulled the first away and gave it a few cooling blows. He held his hand beneath the carcass as he kneeled and brought the meal to Kelly’s mouth, the lean and overcooked meat visibly ready to fall apart. “Here comes the aeroplane!” Carlos said, grinning as Kelly shot him a death glare.
“For the record, I’m flipping you off.” Kelly said, opening wide. She wasn’t a big seafood fan at the best of times, but these weren’t the best of times and hunger once more proved the best seasoning. She savored the natural salts and oils, the sensation of rubbery flesh and charred skin, the occasional scales that hadn’t flaked off under the fire or the end of Carlos’ knife. Just like her hunger, this meal tasted more real than any before it.
In two bites the fish was halved, its tail end sloughing off the stick and disintegrated into a heap of loose meat in Carlos’ palm. “Shit, mine’s gonna burn.” Carlos said, shoving his hand into Kelly’s face as he turned and grasped for his meal.
Kelly gave a muffled grunt of disapproval as the fish pieces smeared across her lips and cheeks, but begrudgingly started to lick the pieces from his palm. Oil, fat, and tiny strands of meat seeped and wedged into the creases and calluses of Carlos’ hand, forcing Kelly to tongue spelunk. She’d never noticed just how many scars he’d accumulated, almost as many as herself. While she'd never think of something so sappy as “It's like we were meant to be together!”, she did find it funny how complimentary their outlooks were, despite surface differences. Always leading them to the same places by different routes. Almost like they were...
”Oh. Oh, that’s foul.” Carlos said, chewing through a grimace. “How did cavemen live like this?”
“A shoddy chef blames his ingredients.” Kelly said, licking her lips with a self satisfied smack as her boyfriend drew his hand away and shook it dry. “If you don’t want it, I’m happy to finish it off.”
Carlos quickly tossed back the other half of his fish with a single bite. “I need the calories if I’m going to keep hauling ass. Your ass.”
Kelly huffed, straightening up her back and flexing her rump to raise her up as high as she’d go without legs. “You act like you don’t enjoy this ass.”
Carlos shrugged, grabbing another fish carcass and his tweezers. “I could take it or leave it, honestly.” A smile crept across his face, inversely proportional to the affronted scowl Kelly gave him. “Would you prefer the former, or the latter?”
Kelly couldn’t think of a comeback, so she tried physical comedy. Flexing her glutes and twisting her shoulders, Kelly lifted herself away from the tree she’d been propped against and turned a quarter circle counterclockwise. She’d been going for a full one eighty to turn her back on her boyfriend, but the weight of the backpack and the loose, uneven dirt halted her rotation and sent her toppling to the ground. Face planted into the soft dirt, Kelly flatly said “Help. I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.”
Carlos burst out laughing, nearly rolling over the last two fish in his guffawing. “Oh, I take back everything. I’ll haul your ass to end of the earth.”
“Glad to hear, though I hope you’ll do more than haul it.” Kelly said, pressing her face into the dirt and arching her back to better present her butt. While the backpack was not fashionable nightwear, Kelly’s lecherous side eye made it work.
Well, kind of work. “I’ll consider it. After dinner.”
“Tease.” Kelly said, slumping back down.
“If you insist.” Carlos said, extending his legs and propping them on Kelly’s butt, dusty heels digging roughly into her backside as he set about digging up pin bones. Kelly growled, though the way she adjusted her butt beneath his heel and bit her lip made her enjoyment obvious.
-
“But like, soap kills germs. That’s the whole point. So how can you have biodegradable soap? Soap that can be eaten by bacteria?” Kelly asked, as Carlos rubbed down her bare shoulders in the soap she was growing increasingly skeptical of.
“Germs and bacteria are different things.” Carlos replied. “And soap doesn’t kill stuff like rubbing alcohol does. It… makes dirt clump together. So that it can be washed off. That’s what lather is.”
“But what if the bacteria is already off the dirt and on my skin? You’re telling me the five second rule doesn’t apply to skin?” She asked.
Carlos shrugged. “I’m not a chemist. All I know is that if you don’t use biodegradable soap, you’re contaminating the water source you’re bathing in. So I bought the biodegradable soap.”
“The seven dollar soap.” She corrected. Carlos gave her a light slap on the back of her head, causing Kelly to giggle impishly. She and her boyfriend had woken up an hour early to take a detour to a river slow and shallow enough to safely bathe a limbless torso in, and while neither of them were morning people, both enjoyed bathing together. It really was serendipitous how little their existing dynamics were thrown off by wilderness survival or quadruple amputation. Going to the bathroom had been awkward and more mechanically complex than either had anticipated, but it’s not like Carlos was a stranger to the anatomy below Kelly’s belt-line.
Kelly’s mind shifted from toilet to gutter as Carlos moved his hands from her shoulders to her chest, his fingers far rougher with the softer and more malleable flesh. With Carlos being just as naked and with his legs wrapped around her empty hips to keep her torso from floating off, Kelly could feel that she wasn’t the only one getting naughty thoughts. “So three times yesterday, once when we woke up… think we’re gonna break our record? Most sex in one week?”
“No.” Carlos answered.
“No?” Kelly asked.
“No.” Carlos repeated, skipping over her hard, pierced nipples and moving on to her toned belly. “I don’t want you to start thinking this limbless survival shit was a good idea. Can’t reward bad behavior. You’re getting blue beaned for the rest of this trip.”
“Wh- DICK!” Kelly protested, wriggling her shoulders and rubbing her backside against him.
“Once you’re reassembled.” Carlos answered, grabbing their sponge to give her the most un-erotic, nursing home style cleaning her downstairs had ever received.
-
“That mohawk looking thing is called a tuft, which gives the tufted titmouse its name. Now, tufted titmice live mostly by the Mississippi Basin, so despite being a common bird it’s actually rare to see one out here. Speaking of which-”
“Carlos, if you tell me one more bird fact my head is going to explode.” Kelly groaned, lolling her head back and away from the binoculars he’d pressed to her face. Carlos had taken the liberty of loading Kelly into the backpack facing forward for the rest of the day, as the next stretch of their trip involved a lot of bird watching and Carlos didn’t want to leave Kelly out. Especially since Kelly hated all non-poultry birds.
“Well, that would lighten my load...” Carlos said, rubbing his chin like he was thinking of a really good bird fact to blow up Kelly’s mind with.
Reeling back, Kelly bashed her forehead into the back of Carlos’ head, sending her ride stumbling forward a few steps and nearly sending both of them to the forest floor. She reeled back again, caring less about her safety than her sanity.
“Alright, alright!” Carlos yielded, awkwardly reaching over and pressing a hand into her face. “Damn, just trying to enjoy the uncharted beauty of the natural world. You really don't think any of this is cool?”
“No.” Kelly replied, her voice flat but nasally as her boyfriend’s hand was still manhandling her face. “Edutainment is for the birds.”
“Weak.” Carlos said, releasing his grip. “Whatever.” He continued, his tone surprisingly upset as he shoved the binoculars forcefully into one of the backpack’s side pockets.
They continued in silence, the ambient birdsong intensifying like the whispered gossip of partygoers watching the fallout of a couple's quarrel. Kelly frowned, not sure why she felt guilty for being annoyed at Carlos’ attempts to annoy her. Minutes went by without a word, until Kelly cracked and complained “Ugh, c’mon, don’t sulk at me!”
“Not sulking.” Carlos sulkily replied. “Just didn’t mean to bore you.”
“Yes you did! You literally did!” Kelly replied. “Come on, we were having banter! You were bugging me, I was bugging you back; it’s our thing!”
Carlos shrugged. “Yeah, I just thought you’d sort of get into it eventually. The camping part of this camping trip.”
“I… Is this like a big deal? Am I spoiling this for you?” Kelly asked, resting her chin on Carlos’s shoulder and trying her best to look him in the eye.
“No, I just… whatever.” Carlos said. Kelly had no idea where any of this had come from, why it meant anything to her boyfriend if she cared about birds. All she knew was that she really wished she had a pair of arms she could hug him with. All she could do without the limbs was curl against his back and rest her chin on his shoulder, implying an apologetic hug.
-
“You have three sisters, right?” Kelly asked, wincing.
“And a brother.” Carlos said, like that was an excuse.
“Yet you have no idea how to tie a braid?” Kelly asked, her entire abbreviated body cringing as Carlos twisted a few sloppy strands of hair into a messy bundle. She would’ve slapped his hands away and done it herself about a dozen times by now were her slappers present. As it stood, figuratively speaking for her standers were also absent, she was using all of her willpower not to tell him to just forget she asked.
“Why do you think I never learned? They had each other for that.” Carlos pointed out, undoing a botched braid and grabbing a fistful near her face to show her his technique. “Why’ve you been growing it out, anyway? Thought you said you liked it short and out of the way.”
Kelly glanced at the bundle of hair, half of it half black, half half orange, and all half light brown. The uncomplimentary mix of loud Halloween dyes and basic bitch brunette had been bugging Kelly, but she hadn’t settled on her next color scheme or style yet.
“Dunno.” She finally answered. “Kinda wanted to set the groundwork for a big ass spiky mohawk, but the more I think about it the more I think I hate it. I really don’t think I’m that sort of punk, and frankly spiky mohawks on chicks look shit. Speaking of looking like shit, what the fuck is that knot? Left goes over, around, and tucked, not over, back up and tucked.”
Carlos undid the knot and tried again, maintaining eye contact with Kelly and waiting for her nod of approval after every step. “I dated a girl with a mohawk before. A poofy one, but she rocked it.” Carlos said, smiling at his own pun.
“So you’ve always had a punk fetish?” Kelly asked, nodding as he made a passable braid.
He shook his head. “No, you and Luisa were the only two. That’s only a fifty percent punk ratio. Sky was hardcore cottagecore hipster, and Isabelle was, uh...”
“was a bloodsucking prep skank whose sole positive contribution to humanity was breaking up with you in earshot of me, so I could leap in and snag the absolute treat that you are before someone else could.” Kelly said, firmly and with finality.
“Yeah.” Carlos flatly replied. How his girlfriend could hate his ex so much when he hardly spared her a passing thought these days was beyond him. He’d been hurt, yes, but the disparity between Carlos’ emotional trauma and Kelly’s fury towards its perpetrator was like the difference between a chipped tooth and a shattered jaw. Ironic, since Kelly swore she’d bust Isabelle’s jaw on sight if Carlos didn’t hold her back. “Anyway, how’s this?” He asked, holding up his newest braid.
“It’s amazing, just like you!” Kelly lied.
Lied about the braid, that is.
-
“Day 3. Supplies dwindling. Morale low. No end in sight. As the endless march drags on endlessly, Carlos eyes his quadriplegic companion with increasing intensity. Whether he will give into his animal urges and take out his pent up sexual frustrations in a final lustful frenzy before succumbing to the unforgiving elements, or resort to cannibalism in a desperate attempt to save himself, remains to be seen. All that is certain is that death is impatient, hungry for their souls.” Kelly monologued, bobbing up and down as Carlos navigated the steep slope.
“We are twenty feet from the summit.” Carlos said. “Ten feet.” He continued, a few seconds later. “Five feet.” He went on. “We have arrived at our destination.”
“Well fuck me for trying to build some dramatic tension.” Kelly complained, as Carlos unbuckled the pack and laid her at the base of a tree overlooking the next valley over. “Nice view, though.”
The hill, designated 518 by long forgotten federal surveyors, had never gotten a proper name due to its remoteness and inconsequentiality, yet its commanding view over the surrounding woodlands was beautiful beyond description. Aside from his footprints, shit, and the sooty remains of extinguished campfires left along the path he'd forged, no trace of human life could be found. Not a house in some glade nor a road more or less traveled; it was truly the middle of nowhere, something alien and almost philosophical.
“I can give you a better view.” Carlos said, suggestively.
All existential poignancy vanished from Kelly’s thoughts. “Couldn’t wait until I was reassembled, huh? I knew my ass was irresistible. Come on, if you hurry I’ll scream ‘I’m on top of the world!’ when I cum.”
Carlos chuckled, gently kicking Kelly to the ground and with a second kick rolling her onto her back. Kelly gave a gruff “oof.” with each impact, but her smile never faltered as she was handled like the toy she was. She inhaled sharply as Carlos reached down, and with slowness more painful than his kicks, unzipped a smaller pocket high up on the backpack. Kelly raised a confused eyebrow as her boyfriend reached in and pulled out a fistful of wild blackberries scavenged near the base of Hill 518.
Kelly’s confusion wasn’t allayed when Carlos unscrewed the canteen and poured a small puddle into the dirt a few feet away, and when he started crushing the blackberries and mixing their juices into this mud, Kelly was forced to ask “What the fuck?”
He didn’t say anything, but the noise he made gave the game away. It was stifled laughter, his lips smashed together so tight they threatened to bruise. Kelly’s eyes widened in horror as Carlos dipped his thumb into the juice and sludge mixture, and approached her with the boggle eyed stare of a man about to lose it.
“NO! NO! I REFUSE! I DO NOT CONSENT! NO! BAD TOUCH!” Kelly screamed as an unyielding weight pin her to the ground, Carlos straddling her stomach and pressing his knees into her sides. Grabbing her mouth with his unmuddied hand to steady his panicking girlfriend, grimacing as she bit his palm with a ferocity she never had before, Carlos smeared the juice and dirt mixture across Kelly’s forehead, cackling maniacally as she pathetically wriggled and twisted her helpless form in a hopeless attempt to flee.
Dragging Kelly out of the backpack metaphorically kicking and literally screaming, Carlos held her above his head to give her a better view, before shouting at the top of his lungs “IT’S THE CIIIIIRCLE OF LIIIIIIFE! AND IT MOOOOVES US AAAALL!”
Kelly roared, her worst nightmares realized. “You didn’t even do it right, you absolute failure! Rafiki smears the fruit juice on Simba’s forehead, then throws some dust on it to give it definition! He didn’t mix them together!”
“You would know.” Carlos laughed, lowering his raving girlfriend. He knew she hated The Lion King more than anything else in the world, having been forced to watch it no less than a thousand times while working summers at a daycare. She got anxious any time she heard a DVD player whirr to life, and how she didn’t see this coming was beyond Carlos. She had to have known this was coming, right?
“Take me home. I’m breaking up with you.” Kelly pouted.
“Alright, just give me ten minutes to get my strength back.” Carlos said, loading her back in the backpack and flopping down next to her, arm wrapped around her shoulder and rubbing the stump where her arm had been as the two observed the valley.
Kelly huffed, trying to stay mad as Carlos ran his fingers teasingly across the magically smooth and sensitive patch of skin. Maybe she really should break up with him on principle. Just long enough to make him sweat.
-
“Fish? Again?” Kelly asked, disappointed.
“You saw me catch them, didn't you?" Carlos answered, plucking the last of the bones from the second fish. He’d decided to cook all four at once this time, the night younger and the two less hungry.
“I didn’t see that, I was on bear watch.” Kelly corrected, standing up as proudly as a legless torso in a backpack could.
“Would this be a bad time to tell you bears don’t live in this neck of the woods?” Carlos asked, laying out the second fish and starting on the third.
Kelly blinked thrice, trying to tell whether that was just a bad pun or a genuine statement of fact, then frowned. “Well you could’ve told me that sooner, asshole! Wouldn’t’ve wasted all this time bear watching.”
“Well I hope you’re as good a wolf watcher as you are a bear watcher, because those do in fact live around here.” Carlos casually informed his amputee companion.
“Wolf watching? Not my wheelhouse, but I’ll improvise.” Kelly said, scanning the darkening forest for signs of movement. “If I see a deer, should I call it out? You might be able to get us something besides fish to eat.”
Carlos shook his head. “I’m not deer hunting.”
“Why not? I’ve seen you eat deer, and I don’t mind my meat a little gamey.” Kelly asked, looking around for a suitable doe to dome.
“That was farm raised venison, not wild. Wild deer are full of diseases and covered in ticks and fleas.” Carlos answered.
“We’re tough.” Kelly replied.
“It’s a hundred pounds of meat, and we’ve only got another two days in the woods. It’s wasteful.” He answered, a little frustrated.
“I’m sure the wolves will eat whatever we don’t.” Kelly said.
“I’m not looking to attract wolves. I only got a pistol and eight rounds. It's for emergencies only.” Carlos said, tapping the small leather holster strapped to his side.
“You’ve taken me shooting once, you’re pretty good! Probably wouldn’t take more than 2 shots. Plenty left for the big bad wolves.” Kelly said, imagining herself crossing her arms across her chest.
“I’m not shooting a goddamn deer you bloodthirsty bitch!” Carlos said, exasperated.
“Whatever.” Kelly said, rolling her eyes. Halfway through the roll, her eyes locked on something behind Carlos’ back. Her face went blank, her body stiffening and then curling up as small as it could as she squeaked “H-how many wolves is an 'emergency'? 2? 3?”
Like a spaghetti western cowboy, Carlos leapt to his feet and spun around, interposing himself between his helpless damsel and the unseen predators as he snapped open his holster with the left hand and gripped his pistol with the right. His eyes darted wildly through the murky dusk, finding only flora and no sign of fauna.
“Just so I don't waste your time.” Kelly said, deviously calm.
Carlos turned to her, bewildered. “Did… did you just cry wolf?”
“No! I asked a hypothetical question, and you overreacted.” She half lied. Looking down, Kelly gasped in mock terror “Oh no, our dinner! Looks like we’ll have to find something else to eat.”
Carlos saw the two fish that’d been in his lap lying in the dirt. He frowned, picked up the fish, and brushed them off on the back of one hand. “You’re evil, you know that?”
“I prefer devilish.” Kelly said, giggling.
She ate both ground fish that night.
-
“Is it racist to say ‘Jesús Cristo’ if you’re not Mexican?” Kelly asked, staring into the brilliant sea of starts hanging over their heads.
“Doesn’t bother me, but if you’re worried about offending a prowling tree-Latino I can hook you up with a JC-word pass. Just $50 for six months unlimited usage.” Carlos answered, adjusting his head against Kelly’s belly which he’d been using for a pillow.
“Damn, left my wallet in my other pants.” Kelly said, not wearing any pants. Indeed, she wasn’t wearing much of anything, just a pair of white panties and a gray tanktop, both stained with stale sweat. She hadn’t even brought a bra, which Carlos was taking advantage of by occasionally poking one breast or the other in as unsexy a manner as he could. It still managed to excite, but the stars gave her something to distract herself. “There’s so many more of them out here, crazy to think it was like this every night everywhere before lightbulbs.”
“Is that genuine introspection I hear?” Carlos asked, playfully flicking a nipple piercing and causing Kelly’s distant arm to flinch in a failed swat.
“I can be deep sometimes.” Kelly replied. “You should know how deep I can go.”
“That joke really would’ve made more sense coming from me.” Carlos said, wrapping a lock of hair around two fingers and gently tugging.
“Would it really?” Kelly asked, laughing as the tug became less gentle. “Whatever. This is actually pretty cool. Maybe this camping thing isn’t as lame as I thought it was.”
“So you’ll be full bodied the next time I invite you out?” Carlos asked, rubbing a stump.
“Don’t be stupid, of course not.” Kelly answered, rolling her shoulder into her boyfriend’s fingers as the tingling sensation bounced around her abbreviated body. “But maybe I’ll have legs next time. I think I’d make a cute SWB girl.”
“A what?” Carlos asked.
“Oh honey, have you not been looking at my laptop? I’ve been leaving tabs open all the time to give you ideas.” Kelly informed him.
“I respect your privacy.” Carlos said, shrugging his shoulders into her side.
“Beta behavior.” Kelly said, flexing her belly to bounce Carlos’ head off of her. “Haven’t you heard that chivalry’s dead?”
“Someone may have mentioned that.” He said, grabbing the crotch of her panties and squeezing. Kelly made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a purr, flexing her hips into her boyfriend’s hand as he rubbed her down. “So would it be chivalrous to stop, or to pleasure m’lady?”
“If you stop, I’m biting your ear off.” Kelly hissed. “Same goes for you saying m’lady ever again.”
-
“Holy shit, the tan line!” Kelly said, flexing her pale arms and rolling her darkened shoulders.
“Surprised you’re not cramped to hell and back, your arms and legs stuck in a duffel bag for a week.” Carlos said, chucking his backpack into the trunk.
“Maybe the magic helps that? Gwendolyn’s girlfriend spent a month as a disembodied head, and she felt fine once she got her body back. Handsy beyond belief, but fine.” Kelly conjectured, stretching and flexing and finding everything moved as it should.
“Magic makes no damn sense.” Carlos said, cramming a fistful of the dry cereal he’d originally planned on taking with him into his face. “Oh Jesús Cristo you can eat shit, fish. Honeyed oat flakes are where it’s at.”
“We brought candy, and you’re freaking out over old-people cereal?” Kelly asked, reaching past her boyfriend and going through their assorted belongings in search of the processed and condensed glucose bars she craved. Shoving aside the backpack she’d called home the last five days, a small yellow and black box tumbled from one of the opened side pockets. “Wh-… what is that?” Kelly asked, holding up the device to Carlos.
“Emergency radio beacon.” Carlos replied with a mouthful of honeyed oats. “In case we really got in trouble.
“You… had this… the entire time?” Kelly asked, stunned. “You could’ve called for help, at any time?”
Carlos nodded. “Of course, it would be downright suicidal not to have one on hand. I’m not an idiot.”
“We… WERE NEVER IN DANGER?!” Kelly fumed, stamping her foot indignantly at this betrayal of trust. “You could’ve just pressed a button and had us whisked to safety?! That is so lame! You’re so lame! Fuck you! I’m breaking up with you!”
“So is this a double break up, or does this break up nullify the last one?” Carlos asked, knowing neither were real. This had been a great week, and he knew Kelly felt the same even if this sudden reveal of a safety net removed some of the drama.
“Double breakup! And if you don’t drop your stupid cereal and ravish me, it’ll be a triple breakup!” Kelly snapped, throwing herself onto the hood of the car and spreading her legs wide, offering Carlos the magical knife that had started this whole ordeal.
He threw back one more fistful of cereal, then dropped the box.